But that got me in trouble today. So, now I get to write about an embarrassing moment that resulted from such antics.
My brand of "luck" inhales profusely. My grandparents gave me their old beat up car. This in itself is pretty good; after all, it does get one from Point A to Point B. So, apparently, all I have to do is personalize strawberry-scented air freshener and a "Caesar-Man" doll that I received from the opening of a new Little Caesar's pizza place and I will learn to love it. Right?
Well, here is why I have sucky luck. They replaced the car they gave me with the Ford Focus. A lime green one. As you can see, it really is a "Jenny" car.
Hence, I named their car of my dreams "Tinker-Bell".
And unfortunately....it stuck.
So now my grandparents are bragging to everyone that their granddaughter is getting good grades in college - and naming things after Disney fairies....
They just so happened to pick me up from school today.
So, I kept my eye out for the little lime on wheels. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. But it did not stop for me, and I bolted after it. You can see where I am going with this huh?
When I had the opportunity to open the door, sit down, buckle myself in, exclaim "Hey, Tinker-Bell", and close the door - I noticed that this was indeed a different Ford Focus. The driver, to my horror, looked like this...only meaner:
...If my "luck" continues at this rate, my demise will come very soon. (And again, why must I attract creepers?!)
"Tinker-Bell?" the dude growled.
Logic dictates....that, if I have any sense of self-preservation, I must scatter. So, I leaped out of the car and ran.
Lesson of the day: Gangsters do NOT like nick-names derived from little fairies in Disney.
(Oddly this death encounter is about gang members too! I must be a delinquent. So, it appears that my new delinquent behavior is car-jacking.)
My proclivity of naming objects is a trait passed down from my dad. When I was in an art class, I purchased one of those wooden...people on a stick...to get my proportions down better. It met a tragic fate when a 6th grader pulled off its leg. All that was left of his "leg" was a wooden sphere that was glued to his wooden "torso".
My dad wanted to keep him and dubbed him "Stumpy".
Perhaps that is why, without the aid of my "Stumpy", that my art final (which I choose to do in crayon ^^) ended up looking like humanoid black blobs...they resembled heartless actually.
(Another guilty confession, I have always found heartless to be...cute. I died a lot because I would hesitate to kill them...and then get mad at them when I was about to die. What a viscous cycle it was.)
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